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Show Ida's Sabbath 90 she'd been saving for with her egg money. He never got to hear her play "Tico Tico" or the boogie woogie walking bass. She had learned some secular tunes just for him, to show him that she cared. But he never came back after Peach Days. "And bless our missionaries in the f i e ld that the doors of the honest in heart might be opened to them...." " I f God could put the power back on time for the church meeting," Ida wondered, "why hadn't He seen f i t to put i t back on one hour earlier so she could have gotten her garments dry, the next to her skin reminder of her promise to build up the kingdom of God here on earth, her holy garments that she had promised to wear always, night and day, without f a i l , when she and Louis had said 'Yes' to each other across the cushioned altar of the Salt Lake temple." With s l i t eyes that could pass for closed, Ida decided not to dwell on the past and to assess the congregation instead. Most people had their heads bowed, except for a few, and as always, Brother Bassett sat with wide-open eyes. Not in the seven years since his wife had died and since Ida had been monitoring him had Bassett closed his eyes, even blinked for that matter. He just stared. "He must have owl blood," thought Ida. The Hatch boy and the Hall g i r l , as usual, couldn't keep their hands off each other. Ida could see them touching and grinning, even with their eyes shut. Milly Jensen, dressed in a red quilted Chinese jacket with Pagoda point sleeves, glared sit-down-or-die eyes at her climbing two-year old who straddled the bench back, kicking. |